


A Hitchhiker's Guide to Wolf Trap

by AteanaLenn



Category: Hannibal (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Not Beta Read, nothing is defined, the slash is hinted, they're all sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AteanaLenn/pseuds/AteanaLenn
Summary: Stiles is weary and Maryland is about as far away from California as he can go.





	

Baltimore is cold as fuck. Also, wet.

Stiles sighs, and sloshes his way across the street. His phone is telling him that the house is forty minutes away _by car_. Fuck his life.

***

He's still walking -dragging his feet- when a car slows down. He's expecting a perfectly timed water splash like he already got a few times, but the car simply rolls to a stop next to him. Stiles' thoughts automatically go over what he has for protection. Which is not much. A knife -a bit bigger than pocket length, but still-, and his bag. Heavy with plastic-wrapped books, but not much. Also, he hasn't crossed path with another car in almost half an hour. Dammit.

"Hello," the driver says.

Stiles rolls his eyes. Walking on would just be rude and stupid. The man's got a car, he's on foot on a desert stretch of road. The choices are limited. "Hello," he answers simply.

"I am conscious that I'm certainly making you uncomfortable and wary-"

"Na, it's okay." Well, that was cocky. Fuck his mouth.

The man -older, graying, sexy as fuck, he notices in flashes- smiles. It's so faint one could see it and never notice. Stiles would bet that many don't. 

"Be that way. This road leads to an impasse. So, either you have been turned around, or you are heading to Mr. Graham's home. Either way, I would drive you to your destination, if you would accept the help."

"And then what, if I get into your car, you kill me and eat me?"

The man looks briefly taken aback. It's there and gone. Nobody would have noticed. Stiles does, because that's what he does. Observe. 

Bullseye's.

Been awhile since whatever supernatural creature of the week tried to eat him. He wonders what this man is. 

"Yeah, sure. I _am_ heading at Graham's home."

"Very well, you'll find a blanket in the trunk."

Stiles gives him a half-hearted salute and goes to grab the blanket. He's not even mad. He doesn't want to dirty that car either. It's a work of art. 

Backpack in the trunk and blanket spread from the top of the seat to down to the ground, Stiles slouches in the heat of the car. 

"Thanks for the ride," he says when he remembers that nice people are polite.

"You are welcome. This is, after all, on my way. I am curious though. If you are so wary of me, why accept my offer?"

"Because I'm tired and cold and cranky. Also, I may look lean and weak, but I'll put up one hell of a fight and I know where to hit to make it really hurt. Also, I've got a knife," he adds as an afterthought.

"Noted," the man says with one of those barely there smile. Stiles is already thinking about it as his signature smile. "My name is Hannibal Lecter."

"Stiles. Stilinski."

"Is Stiles a real name?" Lecter asks. 

Stiles can tell he's actually curious. Usually, people say 'what kind of name is that', or something of in that vein. "A nickname. People can't pronounce my name."

"Really? May I ask why?"

"Because it's Polish."

"I probably could."

"Oh really?"

"I'm Lithuanian."

"Oh." The first 'oh' was sarcastic, but this one is honestly surprised. Lecter might even be able to say it right. It's been a while since anybody -his mother- managed to get it really right. "It's Mieczysław ."

"Mieczysław," Lecter repeats immediately, and damn if he doesn't get it absolutely right.

Something burns inside of Stiles' chest. It's the accent, he thinks. Maybe. He has to take a deep breath and yet it feels like there's a band of steel wrapped three times around him and he can't get enough air.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Lecter looks away from the road a second, then nods slightly and concentrates back on his driving. 

They're silent until they get to Graham's house.

***

Graham looks nothing like Stiles' father. Maybe he can see the resemblance with himself. His hair is nowhere near as curly when it's long, but it's a handful too. And the tall and lean thing. But that's very generic features. Then again, they're cousin once -twice?- removed or something. He didn't bother to find out the details.

Also, dogs. So many of them. 

"Hello," Graham greets them, looking absolutely surprised. "Hannibal?"

"I found another stray coming your way. I know how protective you are of them, so I brought him back with me."

Stiles is reluctantly amused. Also, busy petting. So many dogs, seriously. So much fluff.

Graham's eyebrows, on the other hand, are trying to mate with his hairline. "Ah? Hm, come in?" The man asks like he's suddenly remembering his manners.

Stiles doesn't care. So. Many. Dogs.

***

He's not even paying attention to the other two men. They're doing something off in the kitchen -kissing probably. Stiles would so tap that (either of them, in truth), he won't begrudge them-. Anyway, Stiles is sitting in front of the fireplace -a real one!-, to dry up. 

Or more accurately, because dogs. And fluff. And petting.

He's not avoiding the painful talk he's due. At all. Or trying to forget Lecter's sexy voice pronouncing his name perfectly.

The smell of coffee catches his attention, of course.

Graham is sitting in the armchair next to him, a cup stretched between them for Stiles to take, and Lecter is standing at his side, nursing his own. Something tells Stiles that the man won't be drinking more than a couple of sips. Maybe because Graham's home and manners scream 'I don't care about expensive stuff', whereas Lecter, well, the Bentley.

Stiles hides his smile behind his cup. The way Lecter is looking at him, he thinks that the man might just have followed his train of thought. 

Lecter lightly salutes him with his cup.

"If you're both done grumbling about my coffee..." Graham doesn't sound annoyed. He's even smiling. "So. You are..."

"Stiles. Stilinski."

"Mieczysław," Lecter corrects.

"I- What?"

"His name, Will."

"I'm... not sure I can pronounce that without training."

"That's okay. That's why I go by Stiles."

"Yes, well. Stiles is fine too, but if you are staying, you get to choose which name you would prefer. I can learn."

That's... more than most people offered. The band around his torso is back. His father never managed it, despite all his efforts, and Scott offered but he was too young. He couldn't even pronounce handkerchief, at the time, never mind Stiles' true name. 

"I- okay," he manages to choke out.

"So." Graham helpfully ignores Stiles' trauma. "What brings you to Wolf Trap?"

Stiles still can't get other the name of this place. It's... fitting.

"We're family. Sort of. Well, I'd need a genealogy tree, but we are. And my dad is dead. My mom too, but that was long ago. My best friend double crossed me one time too many 'for my own good'," he spits while making jerky finger quotes. "I needed to get away. I knew where you lived -I looked up what was left of my family a while back-, and I could hardly get more away from California, than Maryland. So. Here I am, which the remains of my life stuffed into a backpack. Christ, there's pathetic, and then there's me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have barged in like this, I'll-"

"Stay."

"What?"

"Stay. I don't care if we're so 'distantly related' that we don't count as family." Will tells him. The man has laser eyes.

Lecter too, actually. 

"Work takes me away from home often for a few days. I always feel guilty for dragging my friend all the way here to take care of the pack." 

Stiles twitches so hard he almost tilts his coffee. He maintains. -Lecter is staring at him like he's looking at a particularly interesting specimen. It should make him feel a lot more on edge.-

Graham ignores them both. "You like the dogs, they like you, and you need a place to stay for a while. You're welcome here. How did you dad die?"

Stiles almost gets whiplash from the sudden change of thoughts. "Erm."

"Will whoever killed him, come for you too?" Lecter asks way too casually.

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know." he's exhausted, suddenly. "He's- was. a cop. The Sheriff of Beacon Hills. They haven't caught the murderer, but it was... savage." Beast like. Maybe Wolf Trap can live up to its name.

"Alright. Well, I sometimes work with the FBI and track serial killers." Graham gives him a half smile. "If we're attacked, it might not even be about you. Actually, it might be about Hannibal too. He attracts all the weirdoes," Graham whispers-confesses.

"I think you're talking about yourself, Will."

"Nope."

"Oh really? Should I draw a list?"

"Don't. Really, please."

Their closeness is so nice to watch, Stiles just wants to sink between them and not resurface. Alternatively, he'll bunk with the dogs. That works too.

"The pack will warn us beforehand, anyway," Graham nods his head at Stiles' new best friends.

"Alright. Thanks," he squeezes out, half choked.

And that's how he ends up living with his too sexy sort-of-cousin. And also said cousin's best friend slash boyfriend slash whatever,-that-man-is-also-too-sexy-for-words, who professes to be a psychiatrist, but feels like the most dangerous bastard in the state to Stiles' Hellmouthed honed instincts, and seems weirdly invested in looking after Will and apparently Stiles, too. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting (instead of sleeping, again, dammit) and I have no beta, sorry ^^;;
> 
> [[Link for tumblr reblogs](http://iamadeepseacreature.tumblr.com/post/157629950432/a-hitchhikers-guide-to-wolf-trap-i-am-a-deep)]


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